I dreamed I was breastfeeding
a bear

it was a brown bear
grizzly

a true wild animal
powerful, artless

I dreamed accurately
to scale

it was larger than me
its jaws overwhelmed

my breast, body
bade it welcome

I held the bear close
touched its head

the fur was soft
sweet smelling

the hair of my own dear
child

they only see red
the bodice
cut off at the waist behind the bar
as rough and wide as a wooden coat

I could have
stopped wearing it
but everyone was so pleased
to be shocked with their beer

I am an old woman now
still on my feet
still laughing at old men’s jokes
where is the respect they promised
if I outlasted my looks
their looks
their parchment hands
slightly damp
too soft on my bare forearms
like a rag at the end of the day

the whispered sermons on Susannah
be still be so still
and now you preach to me
and now you dare
to come sinning scripture
how am I everybody’s good wife

I prepared for the lords the Lord’s supper
but never have I received
how can you see red and not see underneath
my heart’s blood moving
in every direction

the witness box
cuts me at the waist
to the core
these good men have eyes for other girls

I know not what a witch is
but if I were –
you should know it

you have the usual customer service questions
how is my day going
his insurance information
his birthday
12 days ago

I could say
the view is beautiful
the river wasted
on the worried
wood floor, blonde and clean
the wifi is excellent
I have no trouble
making this call

you
have no trouble
hearing the beeps
the hums
the terrible
gentle sounds
of putting life back in a baby
of our son
slowly quietly losing blood
for a reason that is his secret

maybe you can even hear
this hour’s nurse
like you also from Cebu
catch her words round like bells
speaking to him who can’t reply
everyone masked, only eyes and hands
bandage / pressure
bandage / pressure

can you hear my dry tongue
my breath washed in hospital coffee
smell my stale, wounded parts
I am still bleeding too from where he lived inside me

after listening to
a hundred hospital rooms
do you know
what worry sounds like?

When I was barely teened, 11 or 12, a woman at an ice cream stand spoke to me. I did not yet realize I was supposed to be fat and awkward and embarrassed.

I was holding the ice cream, not eating, making people I don’t remember laugh.
The woman, blunt hair, blunt faced, overdressed for the heat, eavesdropped
my confident, stupid, terrible jokes.

She laughed and sidled up and put her hands on me like she had a secret, like a pastor laying on – I am a psychic. Apparitions are drawn to my aura – apparently – apparitiously?

I interjected, hey what am I, which was how I saw old men make jokes on TV
but she went right on – she saw flowers when she touched me, she said, stepping over the puddles, pink, green, sweet cream and peach (nobody drops chocolate). Flowers mean Heaven, she continued.

oh, honey don’t you know? YOU she said – a flourish of hands like doves from a hat – are one of your dead baby older sisters come back.

dead baby older sisters
baby dead older sisters
dead older baby sisters?

Witch never said which – or which sister.

come girls, come, stir up the water

I would see the whites of the devil’s eye
before I am lost once and again
I lie on my belly and change my skin

I did not desire the dust as I ought
seven times seventy is come and gone
two dozen pairs of yellow wings
fluttering hold down my tongue
until my sleep is my waking too

come girls, come

not in the shade
nor the greener leaf
near the feathered nests

a dead, dead bough
they choose
they croak
they carry on
two black dots on
the green horizon